Chapter Text
Octavio‘s muscles were on fire.
It was as if someone had an opened furnace and poured hot melted metal on it. Hot like Badlands’ sun, which he hadn’t seen for many days now.
His bones weren't much better. They throbbed with dull, unpleasant pain, accompanied by an obtrusive feeling, like his bones were placed in the wrong place in his body – which, however, could not have been possible. He was well versed in anatomy, more than everybody else. And everything in his movements pointed to the fact that his bones were exactly where they should be.
Octavio staggered and cursed silently under his breath. His gloved hands found the cold cave wall.
People will use you. They discard you when they don’t need you.
Every step was painful. But there was a clear goal in his mind. He has to get to the entrance. He has to get away from here.
He felt sick. His clothes were soaked in water and blood, and the cold air made him shiver. Cold cave somehow carried the memories of old forgotten times. It made him remember long ago nights in the orphanage. The coldness of thick white walls. The darkness, that one could easily hide in. And that unearthly silence that always at night hovered in the building corridors.
Octavio staggered again and almost failed to soften his fall. He fell to his knees his hands supporting him.
Control... He began to lose control over his body slowly. He hated that feeling. The feeling had a disgusting smoky aftertaste – and unfortunately, he knew it all too well. Far more than he would ever want to.
His gloved fingers gripped the sharp gravel in a crushing grip, hoping it would bring him back to his senses. In his right hand, gravel crunched across the surface of the conductor's baton the puppeteer held in his hand.
This brought him to his senses. He forced himself to stand up again and take another step.
No, he thought. This is my body. He took another step.
It was created especially for me. The coldness of the cave wall seeped through his leather gloves, sending chills through the rest of his body.
He felt as if the pain in his body was getting worse with each step he took. Every step shot painfully through his body. It reminded him of the pain caused by scalpels – similar scalpels that Octavio used for his surgeries.
But despite the pain, he still managed to keep going.
No one has the right to take it from me.
He has to get to the cave entrance so he can go back.
So, he can go back home – to his unit, to his puppets–
When did he actually start calling the Armis tavern his home?
–To his room and the whole second floor that he occupied, despite boys’ complaints. To late-night dinners, which Gibby left on the stove for him when Octavio was too busy with his work. Or to Jurard’s monologues that reached him through two walls, and Octavio could unfortunately hear exactly what he was saying to himself. Or to Ruze’s terrible sense of humor and him playing elaborate tricks on his fellow hunters, which annoyed the whole unit most of the time.
But what if Octavio can't ever go back?
The thought terrified him. It shot through his entire body with a numbing pain that caused him to almost end up on the ground again. His breathing quickened, and his vision blurred.
What would happen if he didn’t come back? Would the rest of Armis search for him? Would they try to track him as they did with wanted criminals and corruption beasts?
Or would they declare him dead and move on without missing a beat?
Octavio felt very sick. His mind was filled with strange noise. The noise of laughter. Echoes of old memories. The sound of scales sliding against stone.
Would they even miss him?
Suddenly, immense loneliness overtook him. Loneliness so heavy, like there was a rock on his chest suffocating and crushing him with his weight.
It was that kind of loneliness that comes from the early years of life, and never really goes away, regardless of how many people or puppets the one surrounds yourself with.
Octavio knew it a little too well. It always remained at the edge of his mind, ominously lurking. Haunting him.
He wished he wasn't here alone. He wished someone was here with him. Someone. Anyone. He wished he had at least one of his puppets…
He tightened the grip on the baton in his hands and felt a little bit of control over his body returning to him. He continued going forward. The baton in his hand was a source of reassurance. He found comfort in it. Whatever would happen to him, if he had this thing with him, he would be fine.
He tried to quicken his pace as much as possible. His head was spinning… his brain started projecting random images and Octavio hated it. The orphanage. Fire. Old dusty masks with wide grins.
Snakes and strings.
Breathing was difficult. But he continued forward.
Snakes. As if there were snakes wrapped around his neck strangling him, choking him like some kind of invisible collar. He felt pain, like there were his own strings wrapping around his neck, cutting his soft skin, and letting his warm blood run down and soak into his clothes.
A shadow of a mocking hissing laugh was echoing in his mind.
He had the feeling that he could hear the scraping of snake scales on cave stones.
But that was impossible.
You are dead.
The silence seemed like a mocking reply.
The pain was almost unbearable. But Octavio was used to pain. The pain accompanied him his whole life. He could handle the pain, but the thing he couldn't handle was the lack of control.
His muscles began to spasm painfully in his arms, and Octavio let out an angry cry. He wasn’t crying out of pain but rather out of frustration over the fact that he was losing control of one of the few things that was rightfully his. And he couldn’t do anything about it.
His muscle coordination was poor. From how his muscles behaved, it looked like a malfunction in the Neuromuscular junction, causing him to lose muscle control – if he remembered correctly. I
But he was a surgeon. Not a toxicologist.
The puppeteer finally saw the familiar exit from the cave in front of him, but this time, it was blocked by a huge steel door. A few rays of sunlight shone through the gaps between the doors, confirming that the sun had already risen.
Octavio staggered to the steel gate and leaned his aching head heavily against it. The gate reeked of heavy iron and rust. But its cool metal was like a balm to his heated forehead.
It will be alright. I can open it. All I need to do is channel my strings.
He was tired. The wound on his shoulder was aching, and the noise in his head was giving him a headache. But Octavio did not give up.
I can do it. I can handle it.
With great effort, he lifted the conductor's baton into the air. In the dim cave, its strings lit up with a bright blue light.
Perfect. Good. Now, he just needs to pass the Strings through the keyhole and open the gate.
The baton fell from his numb fingers.
Octavio cursed quietly. He didn't even have the energy to curse out loud.
With his hand holding on to the cold steel for support, he slowly lowered himself to his knees. He began to feel the ground around for his baton. His head was spinning. He could barely see anything. The few rays of light that penetrated through the gaps in the gate appeared as blurred streaks.
After searching for a while, his fingers finally felt the baton in the darkness
The noise in his head grew louder.
People will always betray you. You can never trust them.
Octavio’s breathing picked up. He had neither the will nor the power to raise a hand. His muscles were throbbing.
I have to do it.
But his body didn’t listen.
They will betray you and try to leave you. You can't trust anyone.
Will they try to leave me?
Octavio was breathing rapidly.
Like 5012Khgia?
Pain shot through his head. Octavio clutched it, falling to the stone floor.
You are alone. You were always alone. And you’ll always be.
“You can’t… you can never… really fully control me.” Octavio said quietly into the darkness around. It sounded like a promise. And also like a threat.
And then his world slowly sank into total darkness.
~~~
It had been fifteen hours.
Fifteen hours since Octavio was supposed to return home from his mission. And it was approximately thirty-six hours since his last message saying that the hunt was over and he was heading home after collecting the reward.
Ruze made sometimes fun of Jurard, saying that he’s babysitting them more than Gibby. But Jurard found it practical. ‘At least I know you are working and not slacking.’ He always answered him angrily, but the hunter just laughed at that.
‘If we wanted to slack,’ Ruze replied, ‘we could just send you a message about complications during mission and then take a vacation for a few days.’
Jurard had to admit that what he said had a point. But he still demanded that the hunters inform him about their missions.
It wasn't like he was worried about his unit! He trusted them – they were the four strongest bounty hunters in all of Southern Elysium, for fucks sake! Of course, he wasn’t afraid something could happen to them!
But knowing the arrival time of his fellow bounty hunters helped Jurard plan their next missions, and at least Gibby knew how much food he was supposed to cook for dinner. Unless – of course – he was on a mission like he was right now, and Jurard was responsible for getting his own food... That he forgot to buy. Ugh. Life was sometimes so not fair.
But he had to admit that every time one of the hunters texted him that they were safely returning home from a mission, he always felt a slight sense of relief that they were okay.
They were a team after all, and teams worked together and depended on each other. And he, as their leader, was responsible for his unit! Although… most of the time… it was more like they were responsible for him…
But it went even the other way around, too. And communication was a key! Jurard always reminded them about that, and Octavio knew that. He knew how much communication is important…
So why were there no messages from him?
He looked at his wall clock and sighed: „I should really start getting ready.”
What a pain.
He sighed again and started sorting through papers on his work desk.
The door of Jurard’s room flew open.
“Hey Jurard! I am back!” Ruze burst into his room. “Catch!” He threw his bag with bounty at him. Jurard had hard time catching it.
“Hey! Watch where you throw it, Ruze!” he snapped angrily.
“Your problem, you can’t catch.” Ruze shrugged, removing the broken, corrupted mask from his face. The hunter ruffled his two-toned short hair and draped his long red coat over the nearest chair.
Jurard muttered something angrily to himself and tossed the sack onto the crates in the corner. He thought he would take care of that bounty later.
“Are you going somewhere?” Ruze frowned at Jurard's travel bag and long travel coat, which he hardly wore inside the tavern. Like the crown he now had on his head. It was a remnant of his majesty and title before he ran away from home to become a bounty hunter.
“Yes.” He nodded. “I have a meeting with the Bounty Hunter Committee.” He sighed. “We broke some fucking rules again.”
“Woah woah. Wait.” Said Ruze teasingly. He seemed to be in a really good mood. “You mean YOU broke some damn rules?”
Jurard shot him a look. „No? This time, we are in this together! That collective mission last week was supposed to be for only one person. Not for units. They want us to pay some kind of fucking fee for violating some kind of rule I never heard about! They want to take it out from our bounty reward or something…"
“I see…” Ruze nodded in understanding. “How fucking dare they…”
“Yeah… I am going to tell them that we are not paying anything.” Jurard, without paying much attention, shoved angrily a few other things into his bag. “I dare them. I dare them to try mess with my money.”
“And my unit.” He added after a moment.
“Honestly…” Ruze sounded thoughtful, “I don’t get it. What’s their problem with us?”
“Yeah… it’s almost like they want to make our lives uncomfortable…” Jurard nodded, as if he himself wasn’t aware of what exactly the committee's problem was, though he already kind of knew it.
The bounty-hunting unit Armis was a thorn in the side of the whole bounty-hunting world. The Bounty hunters were supposed to be heartless and respected mercenaries. Lone wolves and coyotes walking through desert landscapes. Fighters for hire that will take the money, but they will never break their word to someone and certainly would never betray the person who hired them for service.
Quite an old-fashioned and very romantic idea. If you would ask him.
That’s why all it took was for Jurard T Rexford to come and completely shatter the already very fragile image.
It began with scamming his own clients and continued by creating his own bounty-hunting unit.
The hunters were supposed to be lone warriors. It was a world where hunters didn’t have to love each other, but they were supposed to respect each other and go out of each other's way. Because even if they didn’t like each other, they had the same goal, and as long as they didn’t stand in each other way, everything should be fine.
Unfortunately, the reality was different. The bounty hunters themselves weren't afraid to stab each other in the back just to get a little more money. They couldn't trust anyone in this world, least of all each other.
Come to think of it. Jurard just showed the true face of bounty hunters.
And when one considered all the circumstances, they could see that the Jurard and Armis managed to do something very unusual – to build a unit where they trusted each other and where they didn't have to fear that someone would stab them in their back. They were quite good friends. One could even say… They were…. Almost a family.
But the public didn’t have much sympathy for the unit. Most of the Armis were criminals before joining the unit, and some even had bounties on their heads. Which really didn't put them in a positive light.
But if there was something nobody could deny them, it was their abilities. Armis was able to take down targets and groups of corruption beasts that lone hunters couldn’t. They were capable of somehow working together and had good results.
Yes. It took them a while to learn… not to get in each other's way during battles – and when it came to teamwork, it was mostly like total chaos rather than cooperation, but they were successful, and they had results. Besides, the number of Corruption Beasts has been disturbingly increasing lately despite their best efforts and ever-growing kill count.
So, there was a delicate balance of tolerance and condemnation between the Armis unit and the Monster Hunter Committee. The Committee was giving them small, nonsensical rules, and for that Armis was doing small things just to annoy them on purpose. The cooperation between them was fragile, but most of the times… it somehow….and surprisingly… worked.
But the badlands’ public still had their own opinions. Bounty hunters were not exactly popular. Their life was super dangerous. Nobody normal, with prospects for a good future, wanted the work and life of a monster hunter. The hunters were mostly dangerous and twisted individuals or people who had nothing else left and were forced to learn to survive in this industry.
Thinking of twisted and dangerous individuals… Jurard really hoped that Octavio was alright. Maybe he should tell Ruze that Otavio didn’t come back home… and also, about his plan to go look for him after the meet–
“Jurard?....hey…. HEY!”
Jurard jumped when Ruze started waving his hand in front of his face.
"What?" he gave him a confused look.
“I was talking to you the whole time, asshole. Didn’t you listen to me?”
“Ehm… Yes? I… Definitely did.” Jurard said hesitantly.
Ruze sighed. “No you didn’t. What was I talking about?”
“Ehm… about your… mission?”
“Cool. And what did I tell you?”
“Ehm… You were really happy to be home?” Jurard tried to answer.
Ruze signed Again. “Doesn’t matter. What were you thinking about in that big dino brain of yours?”
“I…” Jurard thought about what he actually wanted to tell Ruze... oh, right. “Octavio didn't return from his mission yesterday."
"What!?" Ruze's good mood was immediately gone.
Jurard nervously ran a hand through his hair. „Yeah, he should’ve arrived yesterday, before midnight, but it’s already noon and he’s still not home... and… You know how he hates the sun and desert heat, so he travels mostly at night? He does everything to avoid traveling during the day." Traveling through the badlands during the day felt like punishment. That's why Armis mostly traveled only at night and in the morning or evening hours when the sun and heat were not so unbearable.
"Normally, he sends a message. But now… nothing… and when I tried to contact him… it said his device was out of service." Explained Jurard. “Fucking Badlands and their bad signal service… As soon as the meeting with the Committee is finished, I am going to go look for him."
"Why didn't you tell me earlier!?" Ruze lashed out.
“Dude! You literally just came back from a mission!” Jurard said defensively. “And also… I didn’t want you to worry.” He admitted sheepishly.
“You didn't want me to worry!? Damn, Jurard! This is important!” Ruze was upset. “What if something happened to him??”
“Hey, he’s probably fine.” The prince rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Maybe he just forgot to message me… You know how it is sometimes… sometimes things like that happen." Jurard’s voice didn't sound convincing even to his own ears.
Ruze sighed. "Has he ever forgot to send you message?"
“Ehm… Once… I think” Jurard admitted. “He forgot to charge his device.”
“I would go right now If there wasn’t that stupid meeting,” He said, “But if I don’t go there to defend us, they will take it as if we were guilty,” he said seriously. “And can't allow them to treat me and my unit like a piece of rag."
“Your reputation is more important to you than your team member??” Ruze’s words hurt. But Jurard masked his feelings with defensive behaviour.
“Hey! It’s OUR reputation. And no – I believe in Octavo. He is one of the strongest bounty hunters in Badlands! He can take care of himself!”
“Precisely.” Ruze nodded. „So if he‘s not responding to you. Something must have gone really fucking wrong!”
“Fine… fine,” Jurard rubbed his eyes tiredly. „You’re right. Should I go right now then?”
„No. Don’t bother.” Said Ruze „I will go check on him. You’ll go on your meeting to defend us. Don't let them take our money away.”
„Really?” Jurard asked unsurely. „Are you sure? You just returned from your own mission…“
Ruze cackled. “Nah, It's all right. I had a stamina potion earlier, so I am good.”
„Okay?” Jurard looked at the table stacked with papers. somewhere in them was information about Octavio's mission.
„Yeah, By the way…” Ruze leaned against a chair that stood nearby. “Is Goldie still hunting that fop-guy in the east?”
“Yeah. He is.” Jurard answered, sifting through the sea of papers. “As always, Gibby isn’t answering my messages. But that’s nothing new.”
Jurard couldn’t find it. “But he should be back in two weeks. I guess he’s fully on his trail, and it’s only a matter of time before he gets his hands on him.”
Where the hell is that stupid folder?
“Wow.” Ruze laughed. “I almost feel sorry for that guy.” He grinned. Jurard could see that he definitely didn’t feel sorry for him.
Ruze turned his attention to the desk where Jurard was looking for the file in question.
“You should clean up here” the monster hunter pointed out matter-of-factly.
“Hey! You are the one to talk...” Jurard snapped at him annoyed.
“I AM one to talk. My room is very clean and neat.”
“Yeah? And that thing last week was what?” Jurard raised an eyebrow.
He sighted. “That was because of Ruzaders. Not me.”
“Of course.” Jurard replied ironically. He finally found the file in question and handed it to Ruze across his desk. “Here.”
“Thanks.” Ruze started flipping through the folder. “The Snake oasis? Interesting… I've never been to this part of Elysium.” He said, looking at the map.
“Okay.” Jurard slung his bag of things over his shoulder, “when are you leaving?”
„In thirty minutes,” monster hunter snapped the folder shut „I just need to take care of some things before I go.”
“Okey,” Jurard tucked both pistols into his belt, ready to completely embrace the role of an evil dinosaur.
“Yeah, and please…” the prince paused at the door. „Message me when you find Octavio.”
“Don't worry.” The monster hunter grinned. “I can be responsible when it matters!”
~~~
Ruze didn’t like this cave at all.
Normally, he liked caves. One could find lots of amazing and cool things in them – From amazing cave systems to rooms filled with stalactites and stalagmites. Or, if a person was really lucky – beautiful crystal deposits and old cave paintings and carvings from long-forgotten times.
But something felt really off about this cave.
It was dark, unpleasant, and artificially excavated. The edges were jagged. Uneven, clearly showing they were carved out with chisels and pickaxes.
It was as if the people who carved it had forced the path to go through here against the will of the mountain itself.
He himself thought that if he had a choice, he would never have set foot in here.
What did Jurard’s papers say? That there was a silver mine here before they discovered good soil nearby and abandoned these mines?
Ruze arrived at the intersection of two tunnels. He noticed that the artificially carved cave transitioned into a natural cave. There was a sound of an underground river echoing from tunnel to the left. The tunnel on the right was shrouded in eerie silence. Without thinking the hunter headed left.
In the earlier days, people used the underground river to mine silver. The river flowed from the mountains to the oasis where it merges with the lake.
As he made his way through the cave, the murmur of water rose momentarily, only to vanish into abrupt silence. At any other time, he would find the sound of water soothing, but now it had a strange, almost distracting effect, as if within the murmur of the water, other sounds of the cave were hiding –sounds that didn’t want to be heard.
If Ruze didn’t have such superhuman hearing, he probably wouldn’t have heard the weak sound in the darkness. But one of his steps was accompanied by a strange, painful cry as if he had stepped on something alive.
He stepped back in fright. On the ground laid a small, delicate scuffet. It was dirty, wet, and slightly torn. It looked at Ruze with sad deep eyes.
Ruze picked it up worriedly.
"Hey, buddy," he said in a soft voice he didn’t use often. "Where's Octavio?"
The puppet rustled something faintly.
“Okay, hold onto my coat.” He placed the puppet in one of his front pockets. "Let’s go find him."
He headed determinedly down the cave, his steps echoing through the cave.
This was bad. This was even worse than he expected. Octavio never lost his things. And certainly not his toys – Ruze often made fun of him for that.
The truth was, he sometimes treated his puppets with such possessiveness that leaving any of them behind was entirely out of character for him.
Ruze have never saw him left any of his puppets behind. Not even the broken ones.
The Hunter hoped the puppet was okay. He didn’t understand all the details of their creation, but even, if everything Octavio said about his puppets was true, and he really could repair them, no matter how damaged they were… they still deserved to be treated with respect.
The walls around him began to once again feel artificial carved, but this time they were better processed. The stone was smooth to the touch. It was evident, that whoever carved it, took extra care with it.
Ruze had his ears pricked up and his eyes wide open so that he wouldn't miss a single detail. He watched closely the ground to see if he could spot another puppet, or anything unusual. He left the cave stream far behind him, but aside from the occasional sound of rushing water that reached him, the cave was unnaturally quiet.
There aren't even any footprints.
Suddenly, Ruze heard a rustle behind him.
He sharply turned and stared into the dark cave he had heard the sound come out from a moment ago.
"Octavio? Are you here?”
The cave remained immersed in motionless silence. So motionless that he was even afraid to breathe, for the fear of disturbing it.
What the hell is this place?
The puppet suddenly began to susurrate intensively.
“Hm? What’s up buddy?” Ruze looked into the pocket of his red coat. "Do you want to–„ he froze suddenly.
The cave resounded with a sound of singing.
But it wasn’t a pleasing singing. It was a song, which made one’s blood freeze in their veins. A song that oscillated between the playful lightness of a free bird and the utter, heavy exhaustion of an old man halfway to his grave.
However, Ruze was very familiar with a voice singing the song. He heard it quite often in their tavern.
„Hold on, little one.“ He carefully pushed the puppet further into his pocket so that it wouldn't fall out. He then gripped the handle of his axe tightly and ran towards where the singing was coming from.
“Octavio?” he called down the hall.
He didn't know the song. He didn't remember ever hearing Octavio sing it. And the language was so strange, he couldn’t understand the words even when he really tried to. It was definitely not a language Ruze knew.
The melody kept changing. It rose high only to quickly fall to the ground. Sometimes it stayed in one tone for a long time only to change the octave five times in next moment.
There was something mad about the melody… But also graceful… something reminiscent of old paintings, romanticizing madness as the purest form of soul expression. As if the authors of these paintings were only trying to remind the world that the mad ones are just pure sensitive beings tainted by the cruelty of this world. That they are only victims who need to be cared for and protected.
Octavio's singing, for all it’s beauty, sounded like a cry for help.
This must have been exactly how the sirens sang, according to the old ballads.
Ruze kept running without stopping. He passed a few ominous looking turns along the way, but he ignored them and let Octavio's singing lead him in the direction.
A light appeared in the distance. Octavio's voice grew louder.
Ruze ran into the huge hall.
The hall was huge. Massive sandstone columns supported a vaulted ceiling. There was a large natural window in the ceiling, through which rays of light streamed into the room.
Time had left its mark on the place. The old walls once covered in paintings were now chipped and cracked, the old vaults were crumbling and visibly subjected to erosion. There was a lot of debris and sandstone stones on the floor, and on one of them, in the distance beyond the cone of light, sat the figure of a curled-up puppeteer singing.
The chant bounced off the walls and Ruze had to force his body to relax even as his brain was screaming at him to prepare for fight or flight.
No only about Octavio’s singing, but also something about his voice was wrong. Despite the usual ease with which he moved from high notes to deep ones, there were also strange sibilant dialect accents in his singing that didn’t suit him at all. Combined with the echo in the hall and the cruel glee in his voice, the song now from close up sounded more like a warning.
The sound was painful for his sensitive hearing. However, he could not find the inner strength to block his ears.
Despite the danger, there was something utterly beautiful about his voice. Intoxicating, something that wrapped around people's senses and obscured them. There was beauty in his singing. The beauty of a cobra about to bite.
Suddenly, Octavio's singing abruptly stopped. His posture straightened sharply on the sand-stone block. He glanced in Ruze’s direction.
Ruze took a fighting stance.
The rays of light threw Octavio's face into shadow, so Ruze couldn't quite catch the expression on Octavio's face.
Octavio lowered his feet from the stone and jumped down. Ruze noticed that his big blue silk coat was missing and his waistcoat was dusty and tattered. The puppeteer walked towards him with an elegant, almost dance-like step. Ruze had never seen him walk like that.
“Octavio?” He spoke his name carefully.
The puppeteer stopped and curiously looked at Ruze. Octavio often wore expression like this, but this time his eyes seemed to lack something very important – light. The light that Octavio normally had in his eyes was nowhere to be seen.
Oh my God. Ruze thought sadly.
What did they do to you?
“Octavio.” Ruze said firmly. “Jurard sent me here. I'm supposed to bring you back.”
Octavio's mouth stretched into a wide grin. He leaned back and burst into a full-throated, ear-splitting laugh.
Oh shit.
This wasn't Octavio. Octavio never laughed like this. His laugh was always much more sinister rather than mad.
Also, his laugh was much more high-pitched. Yes, he sometimes had a tendency to laugh like a maniac, but there was always an intention behind his laughter. It was full of purpose, a high-pitched laugh ear-splitting with its annoyance, rather than the full sibilant tones as he laughed now.
"Octavio?" Ruze addressed him cautiously again, gripping the handle of his axe tightly, "are you alright?"
It was a ridiculously pointless question. Octavio was anything but alright. But Ruze hoped that based on the answer, he would be able to judge how badly Octavio was doing.
"̶̦̱̭̊̏̑͜͝ͅÅ̷̧̢̗̥͖̞̮̺̮̠͎͉̒͛̇̓͘͝͠i̸̖͈̝̤̣͋̍̈́͌s̵̢̯̯̠̙͚͍̟̪͚͉̳̥̯̩͑̇̏͗͐̈̈̈͘ḧ̶̡̥͕͇̮̺̦̣̖́̀͆͘ḯ̵̜̯͊͆̆̀̏̍́̄̊̈̉̏̈́͜e̸͖͌̏̋͌̒̈́͗̀̕͠?̶̧͎̺̬̟̭͕̱̘̝̯̍̂̑̈́̆̌͘͜͜͠͠͝"̵̗̱̮͔̮͙̦͕̎̔͝͝ Octavio spoke and just the tone of his voice sent a chill down Ruze's spine.
Okay. The situation was very BAD.
“Octavio.” Ruze tried again. "Jurard was really worried about you."
"̵̧̛̭̮̦̩̪̣̇̇̉̾̽͆͘T̶̐͆͌͋̽͝ͅa̸͓͖̥̎̓̽̕͠ḽ̸̡̢̧̜̩͈̰͙̬̠̋̈́͒͆͒͘͝a̴͈̜͋̃͛͊̀͘͝͝ǵ̸̡̢̤̼̬̫̹̙̘̟̖̙͖͚̜̋ȃ̶͈̬̲̹͖̥͔̤͎̟̌̂͂̃̆̈́̌̚̕͝?̵̢͇͇͔̞̌͠"̵̮͓̲͍̖̺͔͙͉͇̀͒̂̒̈́̈̒̽͌̏̑̔͝ Octavio measured him with a curious look. And then he started giggling.
Ruze sighed. This was going nowhere. So, another option was to try plan B – he will tie up Octavio, drag him out of here and then he will find an exorcist somewhere along the way. Or something like that. He hoped there were some exorcists in the desert, because he really didn't want to rush to Xenokuni, or – god forbid – Utopia.
"Okay. I don't care what possessed you, but you're coming with me.” Ruze gave up. “This is no place for you.” He carefully headed towards him.
Octavio watched him quietly and calculatingly, his posture relaxed. His arms were hanging loosely at his sides. His eyes resembled those of a panther about to pounce on its prey.
„̵̛̹͙̀̃̓̑̐̌͊̈́̓̈́͌͘̚͝Ą̵̨̥̯͚̝̯̱̗͕͖̋̃̾͊́͜ȋ̶̖̮̦̱̮͉ş̷͍̬̻͎̲̼̀͗̌h̵̛̺̲̤̰̥̩̻̱̔̓̅̑̂́̌͋ͅĩ̴̲̤̝̀̓̽͋̑͜ͅt̸̨̤͉͇̮̦͔̜͎̘̪̝͐̈́̓ẹ̶̹̀?̷̢̡̨͚̤͈͖̩̯̺͌̽̋̉̀̆͛̇“̵̛̮̘̩̹̓͂̂͗̂ ̴̝̫̘̹͎̞͋ͅOctavio said something in language that Ruze didn't understand, „̶̨̟͍̈́̈̅̔͜Ŝ̷͖͕̃̽̿̃̑̒̓̾ą̴͍̣̠͕̖̠͍̘͚̋͛̅̓̓̋̏̊̑́́̿͠y̸̢̞͚͈͙͖͙̠͖͎͕͚̣̞͑̋̚à̸͍̺͕̊̔͑͊̽̋̈́̀͌w̷̳͕̖͖̺̗̰̠͉̜̭͉̩̼̔̽͘͝ ̴̛̭͎̳͕̹̦͉͎̞̔̐͘ͅt̴̢̖͍̳͇͇̞͕̬̬͔̥̽͜ȧ̸̢̫̣͖͉̼͔̻̜̖̓̀͆̆̀̌̃̈̔͑̀̌͑̚͜y̵̛͙͓̙̭͚̙̣̞͈̘̭̠͛̿̓͗͝o̸̤̩̟̖̺͓̺͇̝̠̖̬͊̓̆͋̇̽̀̈́̔̿̈́̀͘͝ͅͅ!̸̻̺̙̊̐͛̀͊̊“̶̧̡̢̼̯̭̺͈̠͉̪̫̣̾ ̵̺̳̇̀̋̎̕ his smile twisted into a bloodcurdling sneer.
And then .... He slowly raised his hand.
Ruze narrowly dodged the blue glowing string that was aimed at his face.
What the hell?
Octavio also raised his other hand, in which something silver shone. Ruze had to use Zephyr as a shield to deflect the other strings sent out.
"Octavio!" He yelled "Stop!"
But Octavio didn't hear him. When Ruze peeked out from behind his axe, he noticed that the puppeteer had raised both of his hands in the air as if conducting an invisible orchestra. His hands stilled motionless in the air as if they were held by invisible threads. The hunter cursed under his breath.
As quickly as possible, he threw off his red coat and threw it against the wall. In the past, when he and Octavio fought together, it was his coat that suffered the most injury during the fight. Unless you counted Octavio after the fight when Ruze got his hands on that little bastard. The coat was expensive to repair, and he really didn’t want to do that again.
Ruze's sensitive hearing picked up on the sound of a swing, and the hunter instinctively ducked. One of Octavio's strings flew over his head. Ruze snorted.
There was something wrong with Octavio's movement. It almost seemed like he couldn't really use his strings. This was nothing like their practice fights in the tavern courtyard. He must have been more out of it than Ruze thought. This meant the absence of Octavio's typical cunning behavior, which he liked to use in battle, but he also had to be careful because it made Octavio’s fighting quite unpredictable.
This was confirmed the very next moment when one of the strings wrapped around his hand and cut into his flesh. Ruze cursed and picked up Zephyr, striking the string with full force.
Part of the string shattered. Some of its blue glowing pieces fell to the ground and went out.
Octavio hissed angrily.
Ruze felt the remains of the string tighten around his hand and cut into his skin. The hunter grunted in pain.
He will have to change his strategy. This was no joke. Octavio was obviously completely out of it and was attacking Ruze as hard as he could. The only way the monster hunter could achieve anything was to knock him unconscious. And that was unfortunately only possible when Ruze got really close.
Dumb Jurard. And that idiot wanted to come here alone with only his pistols and his bad aim. What would that stupid dinosaur even want to do if he came here!?
Some of the longer remnants of the shattered string flew back to Octavio and linked back together into a glowing blue thread. But part of the string around Ruza's hand tightened even more. He felt hot blood running down his arm.
Ruze jumped away from another attack and took cover behind Zephyr. He pulled a knife from his pants pocket. With its help, he pulled the thread out of his hand and then before Octavio could figure out what was going on and call it back, Ruze threw the piece of string to the ground and hit it with Zephyr. Pieces of the broken string flew around and went out. They were so broken that Octavio could no longer reshape them back.
Octavio sent more strings at him.
Fighting Octavio was not boring. Ruze would even call it fun under any other circumstances. The puppeteer knew how to surprise his enemy, and his otherwise unpredictable way of fighting kept the fight fun and tense.
Octavio was aware of his weaknesses and compensated for them in battle with his strengths. He never let anyone near his body unless he had some control over the whole situation. He was very careful when fighting.
However, in moments when everything was going his way, Ruze caught him with a mad, almost dreamy look in his eyes. Anyone can say whatever they want…
...but according to Ruze, Octavio wasn’t among completely mentally sane individuals even before the possession.
Octavio whipped the string aside and Ruze dodged to the side.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through Ruze's leg. But the pain was different from string. He looked to the ground, where a snake had bitten his calf just above his shoe. The snake's scales were the faded color of desert sand.
The desert viper.
WHAT THE HELL IS A SNAKE DOING HERE!?
Ruze roared in frustration, kicking the snake against the wall.
It didn't make sense for it to be here. They didn't have any food here! What the hell would a serpent be doing in an abandoned underground!? How could he not hear the snake approaching!?
He dodged another Octavio’s attack.
This is bad.
His leg was shaking painfully. It was no problem for the sharp teeth to bite through the pants fabric and then skin. The numb sensation began to spread through the leg. This was really bad.
Oh, damn. Fuck.
But he didn't have time to pay attention to the wound because he had to avoid another string.
Dammit. He had to end this fight. And quickly.
So, he decided to take a risk and do the stupidest thing he had done in a long time. Using Zephyr as a shield, he ran towards Octavio as if to knock him aside. The strings cut into his hands, but he ignored them.
And then… he threw Zephyr at Octavio.
Octavio completely expectedly dodged, but that cost him precious time and attention, which Ruze took advantage of. He jumped to him, and before Octavio could recover and get his strings deeper into monster hunter’s wounds, Ruze knocked him out with a well-aimed blow just behind his ear – right to the temple.
Octavio collapsed to the ground with a muffled sound.
Oh Fuck. Oh shit.
He had no time to spare. He quickly checked that Octavio was breathing and that he was indeed unconscious.
With a quick step – not a run, so as not to spread the poison in his body – he headed for the coat, where he had exactly the needed things.
Damit, it wasn't the first time a snake had bitten him, but that didn't mean he was enjoying it.
He began searching his pockets for healing potions and antivenom that he always carried with him. He quickly found the healing one and immediately drank it. He had a bigger problem with the antivenom potion – he couldn't find it. Unfortunately, the healing potions didn't help with poisons. They were able to treat their effects but did not remove the poison from the body. The antivenom potion got rid of the poison directly in the human body but did not treat its effects.
Fuck. Shit.
Finally, in a sunken pocket on the back, he found a small vial of bright blue liquid. He dropped the cork and quickly drank it. The potion had a strange, bitter sour, and stomach-turning taste.
He was lucky that the wound hadn't started to swell yet. It was strange. Normally, half of his leg should have been swollen at this point. Unfortunately, Ruze didn't have time to think too much about it.
He corked the bottle and threw it into his coat. With a sharp itch, the wounds on his body began to close on their own – thus trapping the remains of the poison in Ruze's body. But it didn't matter. He already had antivenom on himself. He was already fine.
The weight of the whole situation fell on him. He was alone in a cold cave with Octavio, who had completely lost his mind.
He felt... fear.
The hunter shook his head.
Bullshit. Crimzon Ruze has never been afraid of anything, and he certainly won't start now! Fear was not an emotion he was capable of feeling!
But if he was worried… he'd be worried about Octavio and if he would be okay.
Ruze was tired. His muscles burned. The antivenom worked slower than it should have. But his leg wasn't swelling, so there was no point in panicking.
He looked back at Octavio. The puppeteer was still unconscious, clutching his conductor's baton. Ruze sometimes wondered where that cursed thing had come from...
There was no other choice. He would have to carry Octavio. He would take him, and they would get out of there.
He turned his back on him and picked up his coat from the ground.
“Hey.” He spoke to scuffet. "Are you go—"
Loneliness.
As if he were alone in the whole wide world.
The feeling hit him like a truck, crushing his bones with its weight. It was forcing the breath out of his lungs. He was having trouble breathing properly. If Ruze had been even slightly weaker, it would have brought him to his knees.
He panicked. He was alone in a strange cave. Octavio was unconscious and possessed by something. What if it kills him before they can find help? What if Octavio will never be the same again?
What if they can’t ever go back home?
Ruze forced his body to relax. He knew loneliness. He was used to it. In fact, he welcomed it as an old friend. He is used to solitude. It can't hurt him.
He looked exhaustedly at the coat, where two piercing, curious eyes stared at him from inside the front pocket. The hunter forced himself to take a deep breath and exhale.
"Hey. I'm glad you're okay.” He told the puppet and started to put on his coat. "I found Octavio, now we have to take him—"
“Ruze?”
Ruze sharply turned.
Octavio was looking at him from across the hall. He was curled up in a sitting position, dirty, exhausted-looking, but his magenta eyes were wide open – this time, there was light in them.
This time, they were his eyes.
“Octavio?” Ruze dropped his coat on the ground. "Is that you?"
Ruze took a few steps towards Octavio.
“NO!” The puppeteer shouted. He held his hands in front of him as if to cover himself. "No… I… I don't want to hurt you."
“Why should you hurt me?” Ruze said in a calm, deep voice. With a slow step, he approached his fellow hunter.
Octavio suddenly let out a blood-curdling cry of pain. His hands shot up to his head, and he pressed them to his temples.
“He…” Octavio was breathing rapidly. "He's forcing me… Ouch!"
“Octavio!” Ruze gripped his shoulders. "What do I have—"
“NO!” The puppeteer pushed him away. "Stay back!"
"Who? Who is forcing you?'
Octavio yelped in pain. But then a hissing laugh escaped his throat.
Ruze froze in place.
“So… you're one of his… friends.” Octavio's disdainful voice pronounced the word friends with immense disgust.
Octavio struggled to his feet. His eyes were empty again, and his pupils were terribly small, narrow, almost non-existent.
He walked towards Ruze with the slow, lazy strides of a confident beast. Ruze felt like he couldn't move. As if something was holding him pinned in place.
Octavio approached him.
He clasped his hands behind his back and looked at Ruze with a searching gaze.
"You are capable." He said. "I could use someone like you."
It was obvious that it wasn't Octavio speaking. Octavio never clasped his hands behind his back when he spoke. Octavio had never looked at him with such calm curiosity. Octavio's curiosity was much more sinister. His curiosity stemmed from a desire to break down things he didn't understand into atoms and then sew them back together, hoping they would work the same.
Suddenly, a snake that looked exactly like the one that attacked Ruze during the fight appeared out of nowhere and began to wrap itself around Octavio's body and crawl upwards. But Octavio ignored it, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He reached to his side, and the snake dropped the knife it carried into his hand – the knife that Ruze dropped earlier.
“But killing you will be more fun.” His voice was dripping with cruelty.
Octavio held out his hand with the knife.
Ruze's instincts finally kicked in, and he jumped away.
But Octavio's hand stopped mid-swing.
“Ruze…” Octavio's eyes abruptly regained their light. He blinked a few times, and his pupils were properly round again.
His body was tense. His muscles trembled. It was possible to see that he was trying his best to control his body. His hand, hovering in the air, was shaking.
"Ruze. Run.” He said through gritted teeth. “I can’t hold him for much longer.”
The monster hunter could see how he was fighting with himself with all his might to control his body. His hands were clenched violently, and his whole body shook with effort.
Ruze took a few steps towards him.
“NO! Leave! Find help,” the puppeteer smiled bitterly. “It's okay. I will not let him hurt you with my hand.” It was evident that the only reason he still had the remnants of control over himself was because of anger. Violent rage that drives a person to kill and destroy. His narrowed eyes stared at Ruze.
His hand slowly began to move to his chest.
Ruze froze. It was as if all the blood had been drained from his body when he realized what Octavio was trying to do.
“Octavio NO! Don’t you dare…”
“Ruze… I can’t… My body is… But it's alright…” The blade was only inches from his chest.
Ruze felt like his mind was filled with a strange white noise.
“He can’t kill me.”
‚Ruze?‘
He heard a familiar, long-forgotten voice. A voice he only heard in the middle of the night in his dreams and nightmares. The memory of the voice awakened enormous guilt and a lot of remorse in Ruze.
You…
‚Ruze… Run‘
And for moment, he seemed to see another figure standing in Octavio's place. A tall figure in a red coat with long blond hair flowing in the wind. Instead of a face, a wide, bone-white mask grinned at him.
I am sorry, I failed to save you…
„Ruze?“
The vision stopped as quickly as it started.
But Ruze was already on the move, heading towards Octavio in a desperate attempt to prevent history from repeating itself.
No. He couldn't afford to lose another person. Not like this.
He can’t let Octavio hurt himself!
He lunged at him and yanked his hand aside – out of reach so he wouldn't be able to hurt himself. Away from his neck and body.
“No! Ruze–”
But in the middle of the movement, Octavio's hand unexpectedly changed direction, and Ruze could only feel the coldness of the cold metal bite into his stomach.
He felt the taste of blood and stomach fluids rise into his throat
“Octavio.” He said in his deep husky voice as if the injury to his stomach had not affected him in any way.
“Ruze…” Octavio's voice was quiet – almost like a whisper – and absolutely terrified. His eyes were wide open. They resembled the eyes of a vulnerable, frightened doe.
Ruze reached out and removed a strand of unruly hair from Octavio's face. He wanted to somehow calm him down and tell him that everything was fine.
“Octavio.” He smiled at the puppeteer. He could feel the warm blood running down his stomach. "I'm glad you're okay."
Octavio is fine. He is not injured. Ruze will never let...
He groaned in pain as the knife was wrenched from his wound with a violent jerk. The whole movement seemed to be done against Octavio's will.
Ruze pressed his hands to the wound. Warm blood flowed from the wound and stained his hands crimson. The hunter felt dizzy and fell to the cold floor of the cave.
"Ruze!" Two hands gripped his shoulders tightly.
The world grew dark around him.
„No, no, no, no, NO!“
The world shouldn't go dark so quickly after a simple stab wound. But it didn't matter. Octavio was not hurt. Finally, he didn’t allow someone close to him to be hurt.
He didn’t allow...
Before he completely lost consciousness, he heard a hysterical and desperate scream cut through the silence of cave.
“RUZE!”
The cave shook with the sound of falling stones.